LETTITOR

 

 

Have you ever had that dream where you realize that some-
how you have shown up at school or work with no pants
on? I’m sure there’s a litany of psychological explanations
for what these types of dreams say about the dreamert’s cur-
rent state of being. Freud may say that it has something to
do with unresolved confidence issues arising from
mother/father conflicts. Jung might say that it’s somehow a
momentary tapping into the fears of the collective uncon-
scious. B.F. Skinner could probably find some explanation
pertaining to Behavioural Psychology. Me, I think those
dreams are just premonitions.

Here’s why: Three weeks into my two-year professional
writing program here at Douglas, I found myself sitting in
the ELF (the computer lab on the main floor of the library
here at the New West campus). Being at the start of our
time together, none of my classmates really knew each
other all that well at this point, but we took all our classes
together, and were therefore around each other every day.

So, there I am in the ELF, and like always, I had my
travel mug of piping hot coffee with me. I saw the “No
Food or Drink” signs that were clearly posted everywhere,
so I played it cool and smuggled my cup of joe into the lab.

About ten minutes into class, I decided to get the lid off
my mug so I could get the caffeine into my body by the
gulp rather than by the sip. The lid was stuck, so I
wrenched it. The mug slipped violently out my hand and
coffee went all over my papers, the table, and me. A light
brown pool of liquid was now spreading across the table at
breakneck speeds, and it was heading straight for the girl
beside me. I could accept that I had embarrassed myself,
but screwing up my classmate’s belongings was not an
option.

I panicked and proceeded to whip off my hoodie, com-
plete with the t-shirt I was wearing under it, pulled my shirt

from the hoodie, and began to mop up the liquid before it
got to the girl’s books. That’s when it struck me...I was in
that dream. I had stopped the coffee from flowing across
the two-person table, but I was also standing shirtless in
front of the students that I’d spend the next two years in
class with. Everyone was staring at me, mouths agape,
unsure whether to laugh or leap up to help.

Realizing that I was making a total ass of myself, I
threw my sweatshirt back on and speed-walked to the wash-
room to clean up. When I got back, my classmates were
kind enough not to stare, and I went on like the whole
scene hadn’t happened. Man oh man, did I ever feel like an
idiot.

When I got home that night, I gathered what shreds
were left of my tattered self-confidence and did laundry. I
washed and re-washed everything, and then, as a point of
pride, wore the exact same outfit to school the next day.
Nobody even noticed.

What I’m getting at is this: that time you tripped over
nothing in main corridor, or the time you spilled gravy on
your white shirt, or that time you fell asleep on a fifth floor
couch and drooled all over the place, or even that time
when you paraded around shirtless for 30 seconds in front
of you classmates, they don’t make you a big fat nerd. Well,
actually, they do, but nerds are kinda cool. And endearing.

What's that, you want to endear yourself to me? Well
that is easy as pie my friends. Simply keep reading this
week’s Other Press. From the Severed Hand of Contents to
the Last Call, it’s packed to the brim with the kind of stuff
you just can’t learn from unintentionally streaking a pub
night. Enjoy.

—Colin Miley, Managing Editor